12/31 Las Vegas

By Maelyn Bjork

Dexter MacCandlass, and a team of FBI agents from the Southern California office investigate a suspected terrorist safe house. Mac’s specialty: computer technology, Though the hostiles escape, Mac goes in to gather as much information from their computer as possible. The hostiles are then traced to Las Vegas. In that city another raid on t

• Language: English
• Publisher: TOPLINK PUBLISHING, LLC
• Release date: Nov 30, 2018
• ISBN: 9781970066296

Maelyn Bjork

Maelyn Bjork grew up in Utah, married and taught school in that state. She also lived and worked, in Arizona, California, and Colorado. She has always loved to read and soon the reading gave her ideas and inspired her to write. Once she retired from her teaching position she began to write and it became her passion. She holds a master's degree in foods and nutrition. She and her husband also love to travel especially to cruise. She lives in a suburb of Salt Lake City with her husband and demanding cat named BeBe.

Book preview

12/31

Las Vegas

Maelyn Bjork

Copyright © 2018 by Maelyn Bjork.

Paperback: 978-1-970066-59-3

eBook: 978-1-970066-29-6

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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Printed in the United States of America

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-one

Chapter Thirty-two

Chapter Thirty-three

Chapter Thirty-four

Chapter Thirty-five

Chapter Thirty-six

Chapter Thirty-seven

Chapter Thirty-eight

Chapter Thirty-nine

Epilogue

I dedicate this book to my technologically talented,

son-in-law, Greg Hiatt. Without his help I

would not have been able to write this book.

Also I give thanks to my daughter:

Michelle West. She spent several

years running a small animal clinic.

Chapter One

The Special Ops team assembled at the field office of the FBI, Southern Los Angeles County. One by one the 4 men and 2 women arrived, all dressed in black Kevlar jackets, caps, and each carrying a side arm. The plan was to be a surprise attack. The information they had gleaned spoke of a cell calling themselves soldiers, Sons of Allah. They were supposed to be embedded, but they had been seen in an out of an abandoned warehouse near the Port of San P edro.

One of the team last members walked in pulling down a black, ball cap over his bright, copper colored hair. This was the official ‘computer geek’, Mac. aka Dexter MacCandlass, though he answered to either name. He had gone through the training at Langley to be a field agent. Yet his preferred talent leaned to cracking computer codes, rather than the heads of bad guys, breaking down firewalls, rather than the doors of suspected criminals. Because of his red hair and his Kansas farm boy background, he took much good-natured teasing from his fellow agents.

Chief of the South L.A. field office, Thomas Velois called the group to silence. This man was well into his fifties, with thinning hair and a thickening waist. Yet any of the field agents would trust Tom V. with his life. He quickly reminded each member of the group of his or her particular assignment. We are going into an area near the ocean docks of San Pedro. We’ve had tips of squatters in the area, and a New York field office has listened to phone calls between this group and the recently arrested members of a terrorist cell, and some still free the UK. The locals have been seen going in and out of an old warehouse. MacCandlass, tell them about the email you intercepted.

I managed to find an email meant for somewhere in Syria. It was, I believe, in Arabic. After having it translated, it spoke of the ‘whore of the ‘desert’. It promised about many things dear to Americans would be destroyed. As far as was possible, it was traced back to this warehouse location.

So when you guys get in there, MacCandlass will find their computer and pull off as much information as possible. The rest of you will search, arrest and secure the area. Let’s get going."

The team left in two dark colored, unmarked vans. Mac’s partner, Theodore Kastanis rode in front, Jeri Fox, and Velois rode in the back and Mac at the wheel.

Theo, who usually seemed laid back and calm, was strangely nervous. Normally, he was an easy going, good natured guy. Tonight he fidgeted, continually shifting in his seat as much as his seat belt would allow. He ran his hands through his black curly hair, and kept careful watch on the clock on the dashboard. Sometimes turning his head to wordlessly stare out the window.

Hey, Mac, I thought we were supposed to reach the target at 11:30 p.m. We’re early. You’d better slow down a little. Theo Kastanis said.

Don’t worry about it, Theo. It’s okay if we’re a little early, because it will give us time to get into position, hide the van if necessary.

Mac glanced at his partner. Stop fidgeting. What’s the problem? Did you eat too much of that spicy Greek food you love for dinner?

George blew out a breath; his gaze directed at the floor.

Yeah, I must have overdone the food.

Mac shook his head. He had never seen Theo so anxious. Even though they had been partners for nearly a year, he hadn’t a clue about his friend’s anxiety.

"Hey Kastanis, you and your ‘old lady’ have a tiff?’ Jeri asked.

Nah, we’re fine. Maybe I’m coming down with something?

Mac took the freeway off ramp, then a right and turned down a dark street heading toward the waterfront. In the distance they could see the abandoned hulks of ancient warehouses, rows and rows of them. He slowed the van and cut the headlights. In his rear view mirror he could see the other van less than a block behind.

The targeted warehouse loomed directly ahead. High on the wall of the building facing the ocean showed at least three levels of small paned windows. Mac eased the van around the west side of the building. The other dark van followed. He could see a door, and parked the van close to it. He and George got out and eased toward the entrance. The members of the team in the other van began to spill out, and leaned against the wall as Mac began to pick the lock.

A car screamed around the corner, shots were fired from the car, aiming mainly at the vans. Mac dropped and rolled and came up, weapon in hand. The other members of the team did much the same. He aimed at the car and fired at the retreating taillights. He watched left taillight explode.

Theo, Jeri you guys all right? Velois asked.

Yeah, where did that come from? Theo asked.

One of those bullets about gave me a new hairdo. Jeri squeaked.

Did any of you get a good look at the car?

Yeah, I think it was a Mercedes, an old one. Jeri answered.

Let’s get in there. Velois came up to the door. Maybe they left a cell member behind.

You sure you want to go in there? Kastanis laughed nervously.

Sure Theo, That’s why we came here. Velois said

Theo swallowed, and took a breath. Ok, let’s do it.

Mac picked the lock, and tried the door. It stuck. Theo gave the door a mighty kick and it gave in. They moved in with weapons drawn. Dust motes floated up, and for a moment, only light came from the moon shining through dirty windows.

Mac located stairs along the wall leading to an upstairs office. Flashlight in hand he raced up to the top. He found the door to the office unlocked. He yanked open the door and saw the soft blue glow of a computer screen. Pulling on latex gloves, he yanked a disk from his pocket and slid it into the computer slot. Even though he found the computer files set on DELETE, he began to download whatever files still remained on the computer.

Two of the other 6 agents began searching the cavernous warehouse for any useable evidence left by the cell. Velois came galloping up the stairway, and burst into the office. Anything left on that computer?

They set it to the delete mode, but maybe if we take it with us we can get as much as possible from it. Mac didn’t mention the disk he had been downloading. When Velois went back down the stairs, Mac took out the disk and put it back into his jacket pocket. He wanted time to go over the information he had found, examine it, organize it. He knew he would have to explain it at the debriefing the next day. Picking up the computer, he tucked it under arm and placed it into the rear of the van outside.

The agents were snapping photos, sifting through clothing, dusting for prints, bagging up anything left by the intruders. Everything they found would go to the crime lab on their return to headquarters.

*     *     *

Opening the door to his second floor walk-up apartment always gave Mac a comfortable feeling. It was his home, his place away from the pressures of his job, and the huge, busy city he now had called home for nearly two years.

As was his habit, he always walked to the second bedroom where he kept his computer, and his next most important possession, a Tarmac, 10 speed bicycle. He always had to check to make sure his precious possessions were still there, that no one had broken in and stolen them. Where he grew up in rural Kansas, no one even locked their doors.

2:13 A.M. read the clock on Mac’s kitchen stove when he turned on the burner under the tea kettle to make a cup of tea. He took the disk from his pocket, booted up his computer and placed it in the slot. He began to examine what he had been able to save. While sipping his tea, he scanned the information he had found on the disk. First thing he saw was an Email from a Swiss bank, another one with sorting numbers from an offshore bank in the Dutch Antilles. He studied those numbers for a moment. Plus there were two Emails in Arabic from much the same source as the one he had located before. He would need a translator to understand those.

At the end of the disk, he found another Email in English mentioning Las Vegas. He quickly burned a copy of the disk, and hid the first copy inside a James Patterson novel. He would take the original to headquarters for debriefing tomorrow, 9 a.m. sharp. He was excited to translate those emails that were Arabic and find out what they contained.

Once in his bedroom he cracked open the sliding glass door to the small deck. For a moment he enjoyed the cool, slightly foggy night, but then stripped off his clothes. He quickly showered, and felt coolness from the damp September night still clinging to summer. He lay down and pulled up a sheet to catch a few hours’ sleep, but his mind questioned the mention of Las Vegas in the Emails. Had the terrorists decided to attack America’s Adult Playground? AKA ,’Sin City’? Would what happened in Las Vegas really stay in ‘Vegas?. Or would it be known all over the world?

Chapter Two

Claire Talbot slumped over her desk in the doom room she occupied. She was reviewing for an exam on large animal anatomy she had at 9 a.m. the next morning. She was a student at the Veterinary College in Boulder, Colo rado.

She stood up and stretched going through an arm and shoulder exercise. She worked through these short exercises to avoid the stiffness that came from sitting for long periods. Suddenly her land line rang, and she whirled around to see who would be calling. Her small clock read 10:37 p.m. It was late for her brother or mother to be calling. Room 364, Claire Talbot speaking.

Claire, oh I’m so glad I caught you in your room. I called earlier, but I guess you were out. The words came out in a rush.

Suzanne! My goodness how are you doing? Why are you calling, especially so late?

"I know it’s late, but I had to put Justin to bed before I had time to call. I just had to give you the news."

What news? What could be happening in Rawley, Utah that would be considered newsworthy?

You forget to include St. George. It’s about Neil Bradshaw. He had an accident and was killed.

Dead!? Claire sucked in a ragged breath, coughed and tried to clear the tremors from her throat. "How? When?’ Claire had a momentary attack of grief, and she could not stop the tears forming in her eyes, and trickling down he cheeks. Oh God, not Neil! Yet, because of the last time she saw him, she was full of anger, and felt only the deep pain he had caused her. No, she couldn’t give in to grief, not now. She coughed and took a ragged breath. What kind of accident? Did he trip over his nine iron on the golf course? Claire covered her pain with heavy sarcasm.

No- - - - - - -. He drove his new Acura convertible into the corner of a brick building. Massive Head Injury, Alcohol a factor. Sorry, just quoting the dead certificate. Suzanne said.

You’d know since you work in the St. George ME’s office. Claire quipped. How is his present wife taking all this? From what I remember she was wife number 3.

You mean Sally? She’s grieving properly. Wearing a little black dress with a thigh high, full skirt, and of course sniffing though a little black veil into a white lacy handkerchief. I visited the mortuary this evening.

When’s the funeral? Claire asked. "I supposed I could send Sally a Get-over-your-loss-card.

The funeral is the day after tomorrow. However, the main reason I called is that you need to be here.

I’m in the middle of my third semester in Vet school. I can’t leave now. Claire voice showed her irritation.

.I understand that. However, Ted Huffington, Neil’s attorney called and told me that we both need to be at the reading of Neil’s will and trust. And he was very serious.

"Suzanna, you’re kidding, - - - - - - - -are you not?"

I speak the honest truth. If you leave tomorrow early you can make it by 12 Noon, Saturday to the funeral, here In St. George.

Okay, let me think. Claire began to pace the narrow room. - - - - - I have an exam tomorrow at 8 a.m. After that I could start driving. Then I could leave Rawley early Sunday morning, and make it back here in time for my Monday morning lab. And Monday noon, lecture." Claire mumbled.

Great. I think it’s important you come with me to the reading of the will. Suzanne sounded relieved.

I’ll stop by you place of business on the way home. Claire said

Take it easy, I know how you like to push that Honda of yours.

Going across umpteen miles of southern Colorado and then into Utah isn’t 5 O’clock traffic, you know.

Just take it easy. Suzanne ordered.

What the weather like down there. Claire asked

The usual for early October. Days are still hot and dry, but the evenings are cooler.

I’ll see you tomorrow, late. Thanks for call, even though I wasn’t thrilled with the news.

Oh, by the way, I’m not living in St. George anymore. I’m back in Rawley, at my mother’s house. Suzanne sounded too offhand at this new situation.

At your mother’s? Why? Where’s Andy?

I’ll explain it all to you when you arrive. Suzanne let a long sigh escape. See ya tomorrow. Bye.

Claire held on to phone for a long moment. "I thought I was finished with Neil Bradshaw. Claire hadn’t laid eyes on him for well over a year. A man she thought was the ‘one’. She believed he cared for her, as she did for him. Damn it, she had loved him. He had been her boss, her mentor, her first and only lover.

She felt a jumble of emotions. Grief, anger tinged with sadness. Yet somehow, way down deep a sense of relief. Right now she couldn’t dwell on what might have been. She swiped at the tears on her face. She marched into the bathroom and splashed her face with water. Then stripped and took a shower. Standing, wrapped in a towel, she pulled out her suitcase from a shelf in the closet. Later she stood staring at her small wardrobe hanging in the closet. She’d need lightweight clothes to wear in St. George.

*     *     *

The drive from Boulder Veterinary College to St. George was close to 600 miles, and across 2 states. Once she picked up I-70 she had another nine hours to drive. Her old Honda Accord could still eat up the miles, with the air conditioning blasting, and could keep her in relative comfort.

Once she had cell phone range, she called Suzanne still at the STME and asked about the time of the reading of the Neil’s will.

The old morgue was still found in the St. George Regional Hospital. Corpses came in from the hospital itself as well as, bodies were brought in from anywhere in the county. The waiting period for autopsy, examination, or even for the family viewing became longer and longer. And the bodies began to stack up. So a new building for city-county services was under construction but not yet finished.

Claire went down to the basement level in the elevator. As the sliding doors opened she was assaulted by the cool, slightly dry air, and the faint, unmistakable odor of death. She knocked on the door of marbled glass and rattled the door knob. Suzy, you in there?

Through the frosted glass, she could see a fuzzy outline of her friend. She could make out her petite figure and white coat.

Opening the door marked Hospital Morgue, Suzanne pulled Claire in. Hey you made it, and in good time, too. She pulled Claire into a bone crushing hug.

Claire smiled down at Suzanne. It’s good to see you, too. I stopped by to see what tomorrow’s activities are going to be, what time exactly and where.

Okay the funeral is at 12 noon, the graveside is at two p.m., and the reading of the will is at six in the evening. Suzanne handed Claire a printed schedule.

I’m surprised she’s not shipping the body back to Virginia. Claire said. He was born and raised there.

No, she bought drawers in the mausoleum, next a spot she previously purchased, plus another one for her next husband or son, whoever needs it. I suppose I should correct my grammar and say the next man in her life.

"She’s planning to bind Neil to her in death, as well as life. How Sweet." Claire couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice. Hating the painful emotion bubbling to the surface, Claire blinked and turned away from Suzanne. Well, my mind is fuzzy and my eyes are burning, I’d better get on the road to Rawley. Hopefully, some decent sleep will improve my black mood. So I’ll get back on the road. My land line is on vacation mode, so call me on my cell.

I know you’re bushed, but you look good. You’ve lost more weight, and I love this new Princess Di hair style. It shows off your ‘white lock’ to an advantage. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m glad you decided to come home, even it is just for the weekend.

You don’t look so bad yourself. Still sporting the blond curly hair and, those innocent blue eyes. If people only knew what lurks in that head of yours. Claire laughed. See ya tomorrow.

*     *     *

Home was 8 miles, slightly north and west of St. George. Claire drove into the dry and dusty hills of the town of Rawley. The house she sought was an old farm house sitting on ten acres of land. A white clapboard structure with a new black roof. Two years before she had purchased it from her parents. This is where she had grown up.

A few years earlier, her mother had begun to have attacks of arthritis. She seemed to do better in a milder climate. Her parents tried living in various beach cities in Southern California. Even though St. George was wickedly hot in the summer, the winters here could be chilly, sometimes downright cold. So they moved to a small town north of San Diego 2 years before. Her mother’s health improved and Claire bought the family house. Claire hadn’t been home for 10 months, and she knew what she would find inside. The place would be hot, and everything would be covered with a layer of dust.

The house sat on the north side of the road, under the shelter of large old trees. Old trees with gnarled trunks, survivors of the desert heat, wind, cold and sometimes a blanket of snow, but gave welcome shade in the summer. She had loved this house for all of her 31 years.

She found her set of keys in her small backpack, and put the key in the lock, but it would barely turn. The door always stuck, but after much shaking and jiggling she managed to push the door open. As she expected, she was assaulted with heat and the smell of dust. The first thing to do was turn on the evaporative cooler. She had called a neighbor and asked him to take off the cooler’s cover.

After dragging in all her belongings, she picked up her cell phone and answered a new text. It was from Suzanne. Rather than text back she called her friend.

Meet me for breakfast before the funeral. Say the Waffle House at 10 a.m. I know you don’t have any food in the house. Suzanne said.

‘Usually I’m not much for breakfast, but okay. Claire said as her stomach made a loud growling noise. Right now I’m going to drop, but tomorrow I want the whole story of why you are living with your mother and not your husband."

It’s not a pretty story, but okay. Tomorrow, 10 a.m. Suzanne clicked off.

*     *     *

As Claire set the phone down she took a hard look at her kitchen. She was tired and hungry, but she wouldn’t be able to eat until she cleaned it. After digging out some cleaning supplies, she set to work. After the kitchen was reasonably clean, she opened up a can of soup, found a partial loaf of bread in the freezer, and made a cup of tea.

Next she tackled the bathroom. It after midnight when finished she dusting, vacuuming, and changing her bed, but she was pleased with her efforts. Though exhausted, she took a quick shower. Finally she ‘hit the wall’ as she stood staring at the contents of her closet. She closed her eyes for just a moment and found herself slumped on the floor. Picking herself up, she slid between those clean sheets, but woke up three hours later to turn off the bedroom lamp.

The next morning after a cup of strong coffee, she knew she needed to search her closet for something suitable to wear for all of today’s ‘festivities’.

She finally found a royal blue, short sleeved knit dress, and the matching pumps. She also found an appropriate long strand of pearls and matching earrings. In the back of the closet she managed to drag out a white cotton shrug. This was in case the church or chapel would be super cool. After all she had acclimated to Colorado Mountain weather.

The restaurant was a landmark of sorts in St. George, and rather crowded. Claire spotted Suzanne 3 tables in by a window. Great, you managed to get a good table. Have you ordered? Is Andy watching Justin?" Claire asked.

Andy’s in Las Vegas. Suzanne said in a flat voice.

What’s Andy doing in Las Vegas?

Suzanne frowned and played with her silverware. He took a job down there about 6 months ago. Better money, better chance for advancement.

Why aren’t you in Las Vegas with him, you’re still married to him aren’t you?

We- - - - - -sort of, broke up. I didn’t want to live in Las Vegas. Living there would be a terrible influence on Justin to grow up there. Suzanne was talking too fast, her voice rising with emotion.

Claire could see she was upset. ‘Oh Suzy, that’s not the way things should be. You two were so much in love. Isn’t there some chance- - - - -? Claire watched Suzanne begin to dab at her eyes and sniffle.

"We hassled over the situation endlessly. Now he’s in police training